Hafsa bint al-Hajj al-Rakuniyya was nineteen years old in 1154 when she began what would be a nearly decade-long love affair with Abu Ja’far Ahmad ibn Abd al-Malik ibn Sa’id. They were a famous pair, both poets of renown, and in the strong oral poetic tradition of 12th-century Granada, it is easy to imagine the constant exchange of verse between them.
Two years after Hafsa and Abu Ja’far’s relationship began, Abu Sa’id ‘Utman ibn ‘Abd al-Mu’min, the son of the Almohad caliph ‘Abd al-Mu’min, became the governor of Granada. No doubt attracted by Hafsa’s great intelligence and beauty, ‘Utman made his romantic interest known. Hafsa seemingly returned his interest, although she wrote in a poem to Abu Ja’far that this was only to protect herself from the power of 'Utman's retribution.
As for Abu Ja’far, the tension we feel between him and ‘Utman is nearly tangible. Not only were these two men romantic rivals, both vying for Hafsa’s affection, they were also at odds politically: while ‘Utman ruled as part of the Almohad dynasty, Abu Ja’far belonged to a family of Almoravid loyalists. In fact, Abu Ja’far’s uncle had been the governor of Granada under Almoravid rule. Making matters worse, Abu Ja’far worked as ‘Utman’s secretary, putting him in a position of greater trust and greater danger.
This situation came to a head in 1162, when Ibn Mardanis led a group of rebels in overthrowing the Almohad government. Abu Ja’far’s family, and likely Abu Ja’far himself, backed the rebels in this fight. While the coup succeeded in getting rid of Almohad power for a few months, the rebel forces were soon defeated and ‘Utman returned to his governorship. Abu Ja’far’s father was thrown in prison. Soon after, Abu Ja’far’s brother joined the Ibn Mardanis, and he too was imprisoned and later executed.
It wasn’t long before Abu Ja’far would suffer the same fate. In 1163, Abu Ja’far was arrested and crucified. ‘Utman had succeeded in removing his rival, and Hafsa was heartbroken. That’s where the narrative thread leaves us. Nothing Hafsa wrote, if she did write, after Abu Ja’far’s death survives in the modern day. Hafsa lived a long time after the death of Abu Ja’far, and eventually made her way to Marrakesh, where she worked as a tutor to the royal princesses, but her poetry leaves us at Abu Ja'far's grave. [1]
The poets of mid-12th-century Granada occupy an interesting position in the history of Arabic poetry. They operate at the beginning of what could be considered a literary revolution, in which classical forms merged with modern embellishments to create unique new ideas. The nostalgia for the desert, the environment of early Islam, which is still a common theme in Arabic poetry today, began to take on new shapes under the pen of these poets.
A common set of images appear time and again in Arabic poetry: images of the desert and oases, the animals that live there, and the dark expanse of the night sky above.[2] Arabic love poetry especially calls upon these traditions, and Andalusian Arabic poetry was no exception: In the ghazal, images of nature as participants in love, or as objects of love themselves are very common. For instance, the image of the gazelle as a metaphor for a beautiful woman occurs time and again in these poems. In “read[ing] the human through the natural,” the poets connected their love to something much larger than mere human emotion while also paying heed to the traditional foundation upon which their approach to poetry was built.[3]
Another common theme seen in Arabic love poems is religion; even in secular poetry, love as an emotion is traditionally poetically tied to religious feeling.[4] Devotion to one’s lover is conventionally compared to devotion to religion. Anguish about an absent lover can be compared to anguish over separation from God. The complex feelings that come with love can be compared to theological debates.[5]
Under Almoravid rule, loyalty to these traditional Arabic forms atrophied slightly . The Berber invaders had little interest in Arabic heritage, or in literary pursuits in general.[6] The poets who had made a living writing classical poems at the Taifa courts began to write more creative, less structured work, typically turning to subjects of nature or common life.[7] By the time the Almohads took over, Andalusian Arabic poets were in position to create a new style of poetry. The Almohads, with their support of academic endeavors, created the perfect environment for literary work to flourish.[8] In the 12th century, Andalusian Arabic writers began a period of “metaphorical experimentation,” in which they utilized the traditional images in new ways. Thus, the common metaphor of the sun as wine and the moon as a lover could be combined playfully and beautifully to create a line of poetry: "the sun drew near to the full moon."[9]
Hafsa’s work, as typical of this generation of poets, shows a willingness to play with common themes, but also a desire to use the language in a way that was totally her own. In her poems we see references to Allah and ideas of worship, along with images of desert life, like the gazelle. However, alongside these images, we also see the clarity of Hafsa's creative mind.
[1] This narrative was adapted from versions in Andalusian Poems: translated from Spanish versions of the original Arabic, trans. Christopher Middleton and Leticia Garza-Falcon, (Boston: David R. Gardine, 1993), 36-46. and Classical Poems by Arab Women, trans. Abdullah Udhari, (London: Saqi Books, 1999), 212-230.
[2] Robert Irwin, Night & Horses & The Desert: An Anthology of Classical Arabic Literature, (New York: The Overlook Press, 2000), x.
[3] Ibid., 143.
[4] Michael Sells, “Love” in The Literature of Al-Andalus, ed. Maria Rosa Menocal, Raymond P. Scheindlin, and Michael Sells, (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 126.
[5] Sells, 131.
[6] Irwin, 288.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Peter Heath, “Knowledge,” in The Literature of Al-Andalus, ed. Maria Rosa Menocal, Raymond P. Scheindlin, and Michael Sells, (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 115.
[9] James T. Monroe, Hispano-Arabic Poetry: A Student Anthology, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 55.